But it is a little strange to find France once more--few people know about
the first time--taking her place among beer-drinking countries and placing
the _honestas chopinandi_ among the precepts of the modern decalogue. The
French are good enough to explain that they do this, not for their own
gratification, but as a public service, as "saviours of society," to
"rendre les moeurs gambrinales plus aimables." That may be. But the fact
remains, that the annual consumption of beer per head of the population in
France has now risen to 21 litres (about 14 quarts), which on the top of
119 litres of wine (however light), 20 litres of cider, and 4 litres of
spirits, is a respectable allowance enough. For Germany the figures are
said to be--93 litres of beer, 6 of wine, and 10 of spirits--and such
spirits! France brews every year more than eight millions of hectolitres
of beer, and consumes considerably more. To do this, of course it must
import from abroad. And very rightly too, I should say. For though French
beer may no longer deserve the description given of it by the Emperor
Julian, who condemned it as "smelling strongly of the goat," there is
still little enough that is really good. And it is drunk out of such tiny
thimbles! I suspect that there is a dodge in this. The "bocks" have grown
smaller and smaller, till in some places they are mere tea-cups. But then
out come the _restaurateurs_ with their old disused "bocks," now
re-christened _bocks serieux_, and charge double price. That promises to
make France a real brewers' paradise. But, large glasses or small, there
is something about the beer which you must first get used to. Accordingly,
many of those gorgeous _brasseries_, of genuinely German type, which seem
so out of place in the Paris boulevards, are supplied, not from
Tantonville or Xertigny, but from Munich or Vienna, or else from
Strassburg. For, of course, the attachment which Frenchmen feel for their
lost provinces had a great deal to do with their new departure in the way
of a liking for beer. France, as it happens, owes some reparation to
Strassburg, and more particularly to its brewers. For at various times it
has treated the latter most unkindly. In the first place, the Second
Empire unmercifully hastened on the hour of "Bruce," making it eleven
"sharp," instead of the quarter past which had been previously allowed.
This threatens never to be forgotten or forgiven. In the second place, the
First Republic, though it honoured hops by assigning to them, in the place
of the calendar saint, St. Omer, the patronship of the 9th of September,
inflicted a very grievous injury when, in the _An II._ of its era, its
_tribunal revolutionnaire_ imposed a fine of 255,000 livres upon the
brewing trade, as is stated in the official _Livre Bleu_, "pour les abus
qu'ils ont pu se permettre sur leur comestibilite." The mulct is explained
in this wise:--"Considerant que la soif de l'or a constamment guide les
brasseurs, il les condamne a deux cents cinquante-cinq mille livres
d'amende, qu'ils doivent payer dans trois jours, sous peine d'etre
declares rebelles a la loi et de voir leurs biens confisques." There is no
talk of "compensation," as among ourselves. To be sure, the bakers, with
nothing against them--except it be on the score of weight--fared worse.
For they were declared _hostes generis humani_, and fined 300,000 livres.
The brewers really paid only 188,000 livres. But that was considered heavy
enough. In spite of this imposition, the brewing trade in Strassburg has
made tremendous strides, and continues flourishing. And very much more
beer is now consumed in the city than wine. For 1878 the figures were:
121,345 hectolitres of beer and 36,583 of wine. Paris in 1881 consumed
300,000 hectolitres of beer; in 1853 only 7,000 and in 1864 still only
40,000 hectolitres. (All this beer-drinking, it will be seen, dates from
1870.) In Paris, in spite of protection, the brewing interest appears to
find foreign competition rather formidable. At the time of the first
revolution, a French general (Santerre), with the assistance of government
subsidies, tried very hard to oust us from the market by brewing "ale" and
"porter." This earned the veteran the nickname of "Le General Mousseux."
But the speculation did not pay, and had to be abandoned. Having become so
popular, beer has, of course, found many fervid apologists in France. "La
biere fait en ce moment le tour du monde. Mieux que tous les raisonnements
et quoi qu'en disent les esprits chagrins, sa vogue prouve que la boisson
en houblon est utile, que l'humanite l'apprecie et en a besoin." So says
M. Reiber. "La bonne biere n'est pas une boisson malsaine; elle est
tonique et nourrissante." So says Dr. Tourdes.
But really this is nothing new. Old inscriptions, dating from the
Gallo-Roman era, show that Pliny was correct in setting down, at his
period, the Gauls as a largely beer-drinking race. They had earthenware
beer-pots, some of which have been exhumed, bearing the inscription,
"Cerevisariis felicitas!" An old Gallo-Roman flagon is preserved in Paris,
on which is engraved--"Hospita reple lagenam cervisia!" The oldest
beer-song extant is Old-French, dating from the thirteenth century. It is
as follows:
LETABUNDUS
Or hi purra;
La _cerveyse_ nos chauntera
Alleluia!
Qui que aukes en beyt
Si tel seyt comme estre doit
Res miranda.
The prohibition which Charlemagne issued against keeping St. Stephen's Day
too zealously by the consumption of beer and wine, applied to France no
less than to Germany. The French were, in truth, great respecters of
saints' days in a bibulous way. St. Martin's Day was with them a favourite
occasion for drinking. Hence _martiner_ still currently signifies drinking
more than one ought. Another suggestive popular term is "Boire comme un
Templier." France then has really only returned to her _premier amour_.
But in doing so she has set upon it a seal of domination, which is
significant, as meaning that it is not likely to be readily surrendered.
No doubt beer, having held its own so long, though much assailed, will
still continue to maintain its position. There is too much of human nature
in man to admit of its being effectually proscribed. "Abusus non tollit
usum." The same school of Salerno which praises beer as a wholesome drink
adds this wise proviso:--"Hic unicum de cervisiae usu praeceptum traditur:
nempe ut modice sumatur, neque ea stomachus praegravetur vel ebrietas
concilietur." Sebastian Brant writes in old German:
Eyn Narr muosz vil gesoffen han,
Eyn Wyser maesslich drincken kann.
There is great virtue in the _modice sumatur_. The wine-trade has passed
through a similar change. Though four-bottle men have died out, the
wine-trade is doing better than it did in olden days. So it will probably
be with beer. However temperance advocates may regret it, it is not to be
got rid of by railing. In truth it is now indeed making _le tour du
monde_. And, unless mankind changes its character altogether, it will
probably go on drinking--more or less _modice_--to the end of the chapter,
a beverage which stands commended by so exemplary a Father of the Church
as the whilom Bishop of Bath and Wells, Polydore Virgil, who pronounces it
Potus tum salubris tum jucundus.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Blackwood's Magazine, August, 1894.
[2] The church encloses, in addition to one of the "true" pebbles with
which was stoned, says M. Bellot-Herment, the chronicler of Bar, "_St
Etienne, cure de Gamaliel, bourg du diocese de Jerusalem_," that boldly
original sculpture from the chisel of the great Lorrain artist, Ligier
Richier, whom we so undeservedly ignore, the famous "_Squelette_"--the
mere name of which frightened Dibdin away, as he himself relates. Durival
terms this sculpture "_une affreuse beaute_"--but "_beaute_" it
undoubtedly is.
[3] Patriotic Frenchmen derive this name from the Latin _fascinatio_. But
quite evidently it is a gallicised form of the German _fastnacht_, which
in Alsace is pronounced _fasenacht_, or very nearly _fasenocht_; in a
French mouth it would naturally become _faschinottes_.
[4] Blackwood's Magazine, June, 1891.
[5] National Review, February, 1892.
[6] Gentleman's Magazine, February, 1893.
[7] See the _Memoirs of the Family of Taaffe_, p. 13.
[8] Westminster Review, May, 1892.
[9] National Review, May, 1892.
[10] Gentleman's Magazine, February, 1894.
[11] The "English" student who took the second prize on the occasion must,
I think, have been Edmund Arnold. At any rate, I can discover no other
English name on the register. English students were still few in those
days.
[12] Gentleman's Magazine, March, 1891.
Transcriber's Notes:
Passages in italics are indicated by _italics_.
Superscripted characters are indicated by {superscript}.
The original text contains letters with diacritical marks that are not
represented in this text version.
The original text includes Greek characters. For this text version these
letters have been replaced with transliterations.